Harley's Neverending
by jellosquare
Summary: A story of Harley's neverending. Harley's POV. JokerxHarley. Possibly HarleenxBruce & HarleyxBatman.... **Loosely strung together characters from all available sources. Comics, movies, shows...**
1. Dragged To Arkham

**A Neverending.**

* * *

**O**ne **-**

"Tears are for the weak, Harley," mumbled the love of my life, the Joker.

He never seemed to be so high and mighty when I was sad. He seemed vulnerable, like me. Although in almost every instance, he was the cause of my sadness.

"If you keep this up, I'll take you back to Arkham myself. Harlequin's don't cry."

He fumbled around in his "toy chest", doing his best to avoid my eyes. He mumbled some more, but my focus drifted. My distorted vision strayed to the door, then back to him. I felt a sudden urge to run – to run and never come back. He wouldn't chase me. He'd only send his goons after me when I was needed.

I stood and took a deep, shaky breath, only to fall back into the chair when the Joker jerked upright. My urge subsided, and my heart felt heavy. My eyelids felt heavier.

My last moments of awareness were taken by the screams of the two guards we'd tied up.

* * *

**T**wo **–**

The silence coaxed me out of my slumber, but it lasted momentarily. In a cartoon-like fashion, Mr. J, _the Joker_, started a loud screeching train of curse words. I grabbed my gun and slipped into the hallway, stepping cautiously, so my heels wouldn't click on the floor.

"_Oh God, Please," _a voice called from the only open door, which cast an eerie glow in the hallway. This glow was replaced with a black figure, a shadow, but a loud gunshot sent it crashing down. The guard was now dead, lying in a mess of blood, and the eerie glow restored.

"Fools, _FOOLS_, dammit," cried the Joker, "Har-_LEY_!" I stepped over the body and into the room, just as the Joker launched the guard's gun at my head. It hit the wall beside me without firing.

"You _idiot_," he screamed. He threw his hands wildly in the air, cursing all the while.

"You fell asleep, Harley. _Asleep_. When has it _ever_ been _okay_ to sleep? _Hm_?!" He proceeded to launch all available items at me. His tone shifted to an ominous, threatening rumble, "They almost got away, Harl." This was the dangerous Mr. J, but I didn't cower under his glare. I held my ground.

"_Almost_- they _almost_ got away, but they didn't." After saying so, I stood stiffly, just as he took three quick strides toward me, raised his fist, and struck me across the face. I thought I was planted firmly, but the impact sent me falling sideways, and as I tried to regain my footing, I tripped on my own feet and proceeded to fall. I tensed, at the ready, waiting to be kicked while I was down. Instead, Mr. J fell to my side, and took my trembling hands in his while he leaned against a cabinet. "You don't know what you do to me Harley. I'm…sorry." I looked into his eyes, unsure of his sincerity. He looked away.

We sat there for a while longer, having what I thought was a defining moment in our relationship, his first apology… but then the Batman came, and Mr. J escaped – all smiles – leaving me behind to be dragged back to Arkham.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so I'm not good with formatting my storys... That's what hotshot editors are for - but that's just what I'm not!**


	2. I Killed Him

**T**hree –

I sat in my cell, contemplating the tragedies of yesterday. Out of each and every crime the Joker & I committed together, I never played a personal hand in the death of anyone. No one had ever died because of me. Mr. J always did It – if needed at all – while I was away, robbing the place. It was only until yesterday, that I had been the direct reason for someone's death.

We'd set off in the morning to rob a bank – sources said they were closed, without a working alarm system, and most definitely loaded with cash. We had everything mapped out, and Mr. J's henchmen, all too disposable, disabled the electricity. Once their job was done, Mr. J disabled _them_. _Permanently. _Everything was cool as Mr. J and I strode into the security office, open 24/7, and began firing. What wasn't planned was the escape of one guard. I was told to chase him down, so I did.

The guard was hauling ass down the secluded road, which in time would connect with a larger, more public street, and I couldn't have that. He was just reaching the intersection, waving his hands wildly. I tackled him and we fell into the middle of the road. An 18-wheeler, unable to stop, came barreling toward us, and my instincts kicked in. Just as it crossed into the intersection, I leapt back, forgetting the helpless guard. My body gasped before my mind could understand its mistake. My mind screamed in realization, but it was too late. The large truck screeched, finally, to a halt just down the street, a long smear of blood trailed behind it. The driver burst out of the door, trembling. He surveyed the damage with a mortified look, but then he turned his gaze to me.

"You crazy bitch," he said, "this is your fault." All mortification left him, and a scowl crossed his face. He hopped back into his truck, continuing his trip. He left and I left, leaving the guard's lifeless, decapitated body sprawled out on the street. It was all my fault, too. I killed him.

* * *

**F**our –

Three sharp raps on the glass barrier of my cell stole me away from my self-loathing.

"Out," said the guard while she hid her face. "Now, Miss Quinn."

I obeyed, eyeing the secretive guard. _Newbie_, I thought.

The guard led me down a number of corridors, using her pass-key multiple times. She took me down hallways I'd never seen before. I wasn't even aware that Arkham was so _big_.

She clenched my arm when we reached one particular door at the end of a hallway. She shoved me into it. Bright light burned the gray away when my body pushed the bar, subsequently opening the door. An ear-splitting screech erupted from the speakers just above me. In the split-second that all this had happened, the guard removed her hat, revealing long, flowing red hair. Poison Ivy stood before me – my good pal, Red.


	3. Lost Time

**F**ive –

Red grabbed my arm. Her nails dug deep, but I had no time to complain. She threw me out of the door, and proceeded to push me along to the stone wall – which, by the way, has electrified barbed wire at the top.

"Red, no!" I screamed, worried that she didn't know about the electrocution factor. She kept pushing me, then pulling as I slowed down.

"Don't worry about the wire, Harl." She spoke calmly now, more at ease though we were still on the dangerous side of the wall.

"Horace," she called. A car door slammed, and big, grunting foot steps approached the wall. "Toss 'em over," Ivy said, exasperated, "_We don't have all day, Horace_!"

Two fat, green, and leafy blobs come over the stone wall, and plopped into Ivy's arms. She laid them out, side by side.

"Step on it," She stepped on the one in front of her – and it began growing at an enormous rate ", It won't bite." Somehow, I doubted that, but I did as I was told.

Ivy latched onto a large, expanding leaf, and was lifted skyward – up and over the wall, missing the wire entirely. I heard her landing, almost inaudible – light and feminine. I tried to climb onto a leaf like she had, but I slipped off, and had to hang from its stem.

Just crossing over the wire, my feet hung low enough to touch. I realized this after I felt the tingling, then the extreme trembling that racked my body with pain. Everything went black, but I was still aware for a couple of seconds as I heard shoes scuffing the ground – felt arms around me – a motor starting – tires screeching – then nothingness.

* * *

**S**ix –

I was falling – cold, alone, down a darkened hole. Above – a light, shrinking with distance. My body collided with the ground – and I was awake.

"_Red, Red, Ivy_!" I was drenched in sweat, screaming Ivy's name from the floor beside a large, plant-wound bed. She appeared in the doorway, a look of concern crossing her face.

"You're awake," she said. She scrambled to help me up, cautiously.

"God, I wasn't sure… You seemed so," She paused to think, "_out_."

I squinted into the light around me, surveying the unfamiliar room and its unfamiliar but cozy seeming furniture.

"The wires…" I couldn't forget those wires.

"Yes, Harl, you slipped from the plant and hit the electric wire." She pushed me onto the bed, placing a hand on my forehead, checking for a fever. "Rest, Harl. You've been out for days now."

Her words sunk in while I sank into the too-comfortable bed.

"Days?!" My body lurched forward off the bed, now. I was stable, on my feet, breathing in rapid gasps. "Days, Red?!"

She nodded, and seeing that I was capable of standing strong, she left.

I stood alone, thinking about all the lost time. Time I wouldn't get back. Time not spent having fun, battling it out with B-man and such. Time spent in a dark hole, where I was left tumbling toward the ground. Falling and falling, deeper with only a glimpse of light so high above me. The dream sent shivers down my spine, and made the room feel unbearably creepy, so I joined Ivy in the adjoining room.

Multiple deafening crackling sounds erupted outside, and suddenly light poured in from holes formed in the walls. Bullets rang all through the front of the hideaway, poking holes from corner to corner, shattering windows, thus ripping the curtains to shreds.

I threw myself to the ground, taking Ivy down with me by way of grabbing at her ankles. She gasped and tumbled down. Her arm hit the glass table in a funny position, and it was like you could hear the crack of bone, but it might've been the glass itself. When the gun fire ended, I slid across the room on my belly, peeking up out of the window. A purple-suited figure leaned against a plain black car out on the street. The man was fumbling with his gun when I took notice of his attire.

I didn't think it was possible that he'd find me, or that he'd want to find me. But he did, and I was happy.


	4. He Shot Me

**S**even –

"Mr. J! Oh, you found me," I cheered.

From the window, I saw him toss his machine gun aside. "Yes Harley, I found you." His voice sent an enormous burst of cheer up my spine, which came out as squeals and laughter as I went outside to smother him in hugs.

After only two short hugs, he shoved me aside and ambled into the quaint home Ivy had.

"Hey there, Pammy," he chuckled.

"Bug off, clown." Ivy wasn't so thrilled as I was to see him. She hated him. He hated her. "A simple knock on the door would've sufficed – you know she'd choose you over me any day. Why shoot up my place? It's only going to draw attention."

Mr. J just kept smiling a wide, disfigured grin. He had rough, jagged scars from the corners of his mouth. He told me they were from his abusive father – but no more. Just that now, he was always smiling. To any other person, it'd be creepy – possibly horrific to see him smile like that, but the smile was so familiar to me now. After all these years of being with my love, I never once felt like his permanent smile was a thing to pity – he was a happy guy, what can I say? The scars only saved him from having to use his facial muscles.

* * *

**E**ight –

"Oh, Pamela," he snorted. His smiling face held a look of boredom when he directed his all-seeing eyes to her.

"What a nice little place you have here. Do you rent or own?"

Ivy stalked over to a shattered flowerpot, cradling the intact flower in her hands, "Neither. It's a friends." She dug a hole in one of the many other flowerpots around, and placed the lucky flower inside. She only used one arm. The other hung limp, but she didn't seem in pain, so I brushed it aside.

"Lucky gal, you," she directed toward the plant ", the evil rat almost got you."

She eyed Mr. J; he was fooling with his grenade-strapped coat.

"Oh that's too bad." He spoke, putting on a heavy western drawl. "Get your stuff Harley, we're going home."

I squealed and leaped into the one bedroom.

After ten minutes of desperate searching, Ivy called out, "You don't _have_ anything, Harl."

"Oh." I forgot.

Ivy stepped into the room. My puddin' followed behind her. She blocked his path, taking up the whole doorway.

"Harl, I don't like this idea," she said, jerking her head toward Mr. J, who took the blockade in stride. He flicked out his knife, and plunged it toward her leg. Just as I screamed, "Oh, puddin' no!" Ivy jerked her leg back; Mr. J missed; she didn't. She aimed her leg right at his face, hitting him just on the forehead.

The impact seemed to take hold of his consciousness. His eyes rolled back, and he fixed to fall over the table. His foot clipped a chair, sending him to the floor.

"Red, why'd you do that?!" I fell to the floor beside him. Harleen – inside – clawed out toward the surface, med-school kicking in. She wanted to assess his injuries. Harley just wanted to kiss it and make it all better, which is what I did. I kissed his forehead just as his eyes flickered with life.

"You're going to regret that, Pammy." His voice sounded tired, and I worried over him as he stood.

Ivy just tended to her plants, humming contently.

"Let's go, kiddo," he said, shoving my long-worn costume into my arms. He also took me into his arms in a hug-like embrace, but one arm wasn't entirely right. This hug wasn't normal – none were, really, coming from him, but this was much too unnatural.

I tried to pull from his arms to look at his face but he held tighter, and said, "Sorry babe." Then I felt an intense heat burn at my side and my back. The Joker pulled off another damned trick. The bullet rang out, and everything suddenly was silent. I felt deaf. I thought he shot me. I was screaming, writhing on the floor, but I couldn't hear myself. I couldn't hear or feel anything but the carpet brushing against me as I kicked against it, my skin flaming on the left side of my body. All I could think was he shot me. _He shot me._


End file.
